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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27675047">Keep Looking</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Latigra/pseuds/Latigra'>Latigra</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Persona 5 Canon Divergence Fics [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Persona 5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Akira's Obsession with Akechi, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Arguments, F/M, Het, Pining, Psychopathology &amp; Sociopathy, Rivalry, Sequel, Social Media, Teenage Cringe, Video Game Mechanics, lying</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-07 00:09:01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>11,152</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27675047</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Latigra/pseuds/Latigra</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Akira knows that his rival is alive and now his best friend knows of his sketchier powers. There's also the matter of the crazy fascist poised to take over Japan.</p><p>It's okay, though. Akira has a plan.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Kurusu Akira/Takamaki Ann</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Persona 5 Canon Divergence Fics [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2023718</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>15</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Keep Looking</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I wrote this a month ago with every intention of "fixing it" later. But now I don't know what I wanted to fix exactly, so I'm just posting it here to never look at again hopefully.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Akira's dreams were full of jazz. </p><p>Specifically, the jazz club had become a fixture of Akira’s dreams since the clusterfuck with Yoshida and his little misstep with Ryuji. Akira was going to go right ahead and assume it had to do with Akechi, since he didn’t actually care for the place. He’d just pretended to like the atmosphere so Akechi would think he was cool and sophisticated. God, he’d made so many dumb calls about Akechi. The entire “relationship” had been a trainwreck from beginning to end. And it wasn’t even over yet.</p><p>Akira looked over across his dream table, where his mind had conjured an image of Akechi wearing a pristine white suit. Like the one he wore in Sae’s Palace, when he’d been acting like the righteous, princely detective. Except for the glitzy shoulder things, which Akira’s subconscious had wisely discarded. Akira simply had better taste than the fake little shit.</p><p>Nevertheless, the Velvet Room’s weeping opera tune was all the sound that Akira’s mind could supply, so the dream performer was not a jazz singer. Dream Akechi gazed at her with wonder all the same, swaying with the music. Akira let himself openly stare at Akechi's profile, to drink in his delicate features and dainty nose. Dream Akechi sensed him looking (or maybe it was more accurate to say that Akira imagined him noticing) and fixed him with a burgundy stare. </p><p>“Is this a regular dream?” asked Akira. </p><p>Dream Akechi picked up a glass of wine. Or champagne. Or some other fancy drink that someone classy and adult might like. Akira didn’t drink, so he didn’t know. </p><p>“I feel like this isn’t how I would dream of you,” said Akira, looking around the empty jazz club. Akira’s mind hadn’t bothered to provide any details. Perhaps it could not, and this wasn’t his dream at all. He looked back at Akechi. “You have strange powers that I don’t fully understand. I don’t fully understand my own powers.”</p><p>“I saw right through you, attic trash,” dream Akechi said, in his true voice. The one from the engine room in Shido’s cruise ship. </p><p>The entire club jolts; Akira’s chair buckles like it’s a temperamental horse trying to throw him off the saddle. Akira tenses, tries to keep his gaze locked with Akechi’s reddish eyes, and startles awake. He’s on the train back to Yongen-Jaya, dozing off after a long day of. . . not doing much, really. A long day of being bored, watching people gawk at him and Ann, waiting for Shido to do something. Anything. Trying not to look for Akechi in every blurry corner, unsure of whether he’s scared at the prospect of Loki leaping out of the shadows or excited about it.</p><p>Now that Akira knew that Akechi was alive, he couldn’t stop thinking about the little bastard and his stupid, soft auburn hair. To think that he'd feared himself obsessed before. He couldn’t stop opening the Nav app, going to the confidants tab, and staring at Akechi's stylized, black and red portrait. <em>Goro Akechi revealed his true self and disappeared into the Metaverse.</em> </p><p>Ugh. Akira hoped that wherever the bastard was, he was dealing with the most annoying Shadows possible. One of the sad ones that kept weeping about how their dad never loved them. </p><p>Which might sound mean, considering Akechi's father’s situation. But also. Serial killer. It was no less than Akechi deserved.</p><p>Growling to himself, Akira opened his messaging app, found Akechi's number, and typed out a message. <em>I figured out you're alive, asshole.</em></p><p>"Why are you glaring at your phone?" asked Morgana, from Akira’s backpack.</p><p>"Just spam," said Akira, quickly deleting the message. </p><p>Akechi probably still had his phone. It would be the height of stupidity for Akira to surrender the element of surprise - assuming he had it - in a moment of random rage. He needed to sleep on this, discuss it with the team, let it percolate until he could turn it to his advantage. Their advantage. Shido must be looking for Akechi as well, and might have already found him. </p><p>There were no pressing issues with his evening confidants, so Akira decided to stay home and brew coffee. His phone buzzed, but he didn’t want to talk to anyone. Not even the Thieves. Not even Ann. He had nothing to offer them, no new targets, no words of comfort. Nothing.  </p><p>“There’s been a lot on your mind lately,” Morgana said later, after Akira had climbed into bed without even attempting his usual calisthenics routine. He hopped onto Akira’s lap and then walked over to lie on his chest.</p><p>“I feel like we’re at a crossroads,” said Akira. “About Shido. . . About everything.”</p><p>“Maybe we did change Shido’s heart,” said Morgana, tail swishing. “He hasn’t confessed his crimes, but he also hasn’t done anything super evil since becoming prime minister.”</p><p>“He’s not prime minister yet,” said Akira, looking up at the ceiling. Their heist had done <em>something</em>, since Shido had been unable to start his term due to vague "health concerns". There was also the news, all breathlessly talking about some amorphous threat, some old glory that the country must return to, while the people scurried from dreadful job to dreadful job, crushed under a mountain of loneliness. Akira didn’t know how to explain all that to a cat.</p><p>Akira’s phone vibrated; a welcomed distraction, for once. A message from his brother.</p><p>&gt;&gt;&gt;Bro<br/>
You blocked mom’s phone</p><p>&gt;&gt;&gt;Akira<br/>
Dad already called about that<br/>
She’s unblocked but I’m not calling her</p><p>&gt;&gt;&gt;Bro<br/>
Dude<br/>
I would be impressed by your hot foreign girlfriend<br/>
But I’m too impressed at the power move of blocking mom </p><p>&gt;&gt;&gt;Akira<br/>
What are they gonna do to me<br/>
I’m living in an attic<br/>
Nothing left to lose</p><p>&gt;&gt;&gt;Bro<br/>
I will deny ever putting this in writing but<br/>
Good for you</p><p>&gt;&gt;&gt;Akira<br/>
Already screenshotted<br/>
I own you now<br/>
Amateur</p><p>&gt;&gt;&gt;Bro<br/>
Lol I’ll tell mom you used your yakuza connections to fake that<br/>
I need to head to bed<br/>
Take care, Aki</p><p>&gt;&gt;&gt;Akira<br/>
Take care</p><p>Akira laughed. What would his brother say if he admitted that he had <em>real</em> yakuza connections now? He imagined Iwai meeting up with his brother and commenting on the thick-rimmed glasses and already-receding hairline, the slight pouch to his belly. Akira’s brother was a decent enough guy - funny, even - but such a slave to his work that he seemed at least a decade older than his twenty-five years. He didn’t have time to cook, had no time to find a wife to help him with it - certainly didn’t have the energy to exercise or sleep well. But he was doing very well at his accounting firm, had built such a good relationship with his boss that he <em>might</em> be able to get his delinquent brother a shitty position at the company. Maybe. </p><p>If Akira could spend a year in Tokyo properly atoning for the sin of pissing off a powerful man. Akira suspected that gallivanting around with some frivolous American girl on social media did not look good, and not because it was “wrong”. He was not in Tokyo to enjoy himself, and it was not exactly a punishment to have a gorgeous girl coyly bragging about all the sex she was happily having with him. Not literally, of course, but Akira had seen enough of Ann’s social media accounts to grasp that they were. . . suggestive. Yet, his brother was congratulating him for it, anyway. No, he was congratulating Akira for standing up to their shitty parents. It was the closest Akira felt to his brother since. . . ever. </p><p>For once, he went to sleep without a knot in his stomach. He expected to see the roof of the attic the next time he opened his eyes. </p><p>Instead, he saw a fluffy white cloud - a perfect one, right out of a book - framed by a deep blue sky. <em>Not the Velvet Room</em>, he thought, though he still strained to hear the melancholy opera singer. Birds chirped in the background. A warm gust of wind passed, blowing pollen in his face. Akira scratched at his nose as he sat up to look at a picturesque grass field. A few yards in front of him was a gleaming stream. </p><p>Inaba, near the stream relatively close to his parents' house. His old house. </p><p>It wasn't a normal dream - Akira's normal dreams were never so clear.</p><p>"Isn't this nice," said a lilting voice. </p><p>Akira whirled around, heart pounding. </p><p>"Hello," said Akechi, tilting his head and smiling softly.</p><p>Stupid as it was, Akira couldn't help but be excited to see his soft, fake-as-fuck sweet expression. What a good actor the bastard was, not just with his face, but with his entire demeanour, down to the plain navy school uniform he wore. His hair looked lighter than ever under the bright blue sky, the reddest highlights gleaming like fire. </p><p>"Why are you shorter than me?" asked Akira. </p><p>"Um?" asked Akechi, letting his eyes grow comically wide. Then his expression turned sour - not harsh (like right before he shot Akira between the eyes), but <em>scared</em>. </p><p>Akira had never seen him scared, not even in Shido's ship, while announcing that he intended to die fighting his father's twisted cognition of him. Akechi took a hesitant step back, eyes looking Akira up and down, prompting Akira to follow his gaze. For the first time, he noticed he was dressed in the striped suit of the Velvet Room, sans the ball and chain. Did Akechi know how Akira looked in the Velvet Room?</p><p>Before Akira could ask him, Akechi whirled around and ran off, behind a thick tree that hid his frame. There were no trees like that in Inaba.</p><p>Akira followed, cursing under his breath. The scenery changed radically the instant he stepped past the tree - from a sunny day out in a field to a musty old office with poor lighting. Behind a single window, there was the angry red sky of the Metaverse. Amorphous shadows passed by, their red eyes unseeing. The lighting was so muted that Akechi’s hair looked almost black.</p><p>“Is there anything I can do for you, ma’am?” asked Akechi, flat and exhausted. Akira almost didn’t recognize the voice.</p><p>“You can help us find Yamamoto-kun,” said an older woman, drawing Akira’s attention. </p><p>Some kind of aging teacher, her broad back straight and her frame stout. Maybe she had a kind face in real life, but now she was a Shadow, with a smile that looked like a twisted smirk and eyes as yellow as a rabid animal’s. </p><p>“I don’t know where he is,” said Akechi, without looking at her. </p><p>“He cracked your ribs when you first arrived here,” said the Shadow.</p><p>“I remember,” snorted Akechi.</p><p>The office wall contracted, forcing Akira to walk closer to Akechi, who finally looked up from the chair, his eyes widening. Out of their own accord, Akira’s hands reached for his shoulders and squeezed tightly. Akechi tried to squirm away, but he was too thin, as weak as a calf. Smirking, Akira caressed his neck, sank a hand into his pretty hair and made a fist, pulling at the reddish strands until Akechi cried out.</p><p>“Little Know-It-All French boy needs a lesson in manners, doesn’t he?” said Akira. Or rather, Akira’s mouth and Akira’s voice, but he had never said such a thing. Would never say such a thing, not to someone who looked so scared.</p><p>The shrill sound of an alarm ripped Akira from his dream. He jumped to a seated position, throwing Morgana from his usual spot on Akira’s chest. </p><p>“Watch it!” yelled Morgana, as Akira’s heart pounded.</p><p>Akira fumbled for his phone. The details of the dream were already fading. “Yamamoto,” he said out loud, frantically unlocking his phone.</p><p>“What?” said Morgana. </p><p>Akira opened the Nav and rushed to Akechi’s confidant entry. <em>Goro Akechi revealed his true self and disappeared into the Metaverse.</em> “Damn it.”</p><p>“What’s wrong?” demanded Morgana.</p><p>Akira rushed to his journal, desperate to write down as many details from the dream as he could. <em>Yamamoto.  Where is he? Cracked Akechi’s ribs. Akechi remembers. Akechi is so pretty. French.</em></p><p>“Ugh, fuck,” said Akira.</p><p>“What happened?” shrieked Morgana, digging his claws into Akira’s pyjama shirt. Out in the real world, his feline eyes did not let him read, but he peered at Akira's journal, anyway.</p><p>“I just had a strange dream,” said Akira, gently dislodging Morgana’s claws. “It left me a little confused, but I’m awake now. Gotta get ready for school.”</p><p>As stupid as it was to let Akechi’s prettiness distract him from more important details, it would be even stupider to berate himself for having a subconscious. That dream had not been normal. It was the first tangible clue about Akechi’s whereabouts since Yoshida’s abrupt death. </p><p>Akira smiled and smirked all morning as he brewed his coffee. His good mood lasted all the way to school. Even Ann noticed when she greeted him in front of their homeroom classroom. </p><p>"Things are looking up," he said, smiling when she held his hand. </p><p>"Yeah?"</p><p>"With my family," he explained. Phantom Thieves-related business was still a shitshow, weird Akechi dreams aside. Hell, the dreams might be a sign that everything was about to get worse.</p><p>The teacher arrived before Ann could ask anymore questions, which was good because Akira didn't want to talk about his family too much. With anyone, but Ann especially. They had a very good thing going, intimate and distant at the same time. The last thing he needed was them getting too involved in each other's families. </p><p>Kawakami was teaching one of his afternoon classes right around Haru's free period. Akira considered his options and decided that he'd put off that bit of awkwardness long enough. He asked to go to the bathroom. And then did so, to check himself out in the mirror. Ideally, he could make himself look as bland and ordinary as Mishima.</p><p>It took a few moments of studying his reflection to realize that wouldn't be easy.</p><p>Akira had never considered himself particularly attractive. Or ugly. Although, his one friend back in Inaba, the one who had blacklisted him instantly, used to complain that he had flawless skin and a perfect nose and such elegant hands (and to think that Akira was the one who was supposed to like boys). Anyway, that was all mostly true. </p><p>In so far as he had no acne, and his nose seemed to fit with the rest of his face, and his hands were dexterous and capable of crafting the best lockpicks in the Metaverse, but still. . . Akira didn't stand out. He could melt into a crowd, though maybe not in Shujin's red plaid and red buttons. He had thick, glossy hair, but he didn't style it in any particular way. Ann gave him some fancy shampoo, which he regretted using because he was starting to remind himself of Akechi with how nice his hair looked lately. The free clothes were also a double-edged sword - people were beginning to notice how fit he was now that he wasn’t throwing on whatever cheap, off-brand crap he grabbed on discount as long as it mostly fit him.</p><p>Ann said that he was <em>gorgeous</em>, and it was probably not just her being nice. Or his powers confusing her. She'd been using him for her influential stuff on social media, and she'd been bragging that it had been a rousing success. Apparently, some of her modeling contacts had asked if he was interested in doing professional photoshoots, which he’d said he would think about, and well. . . Akira was not sure how he felt about being famous. Even internet famous. </p><p>Okay, so he liked being complimented and admired. Just like anyone would. He was just smart enough to appreciate the power of anonymity, especially for someone with his record. Still, it might embarrass his dad if Akira started pouting at a camera for money, so the idea could not be discarded off-hand. </p><p><em>You’re stalling,</em> he thought, glaring at his own reflection. Haru wasn't the type to decide she wasn't into him because he wasn't hot, anyway, so he better get to it. </p><p>Haru was up on the roof with her plants, as expected. Her light auburn curls reminded him of Akechi's hair, though it wasn't even close to the same color, and her hair was dyed anyway. Which was totally an important issue to be contemplating right now. He couldn't go an hour without thinking about Akechi and his shitty hair.  </p><p>Of course, Haru looked up as he glared out to the ether. She waved shyly at him regardless. With a smile that was way more hesitant than he would have liked, Akira walked closer to her, fighting an urge to put his hands in his pockets. He felt bad about hanging out with Haru, in a way that he didn't with all his other confidants. What she wanted was. . . him. In a way he just couldn't give her. </p><p>"They're looking good," he said, gesturing at the vegetables. </p><p>"Yes," said Haru, smiling. "I've been experimenting with the soil." </p><p>"Hm," said Akira. He could start talking about the plant vitamins down in Shibuya's underground mall, or what he concocted with the loot from the Metaverse and Mementos, but she was the Okumura heiress. There were probably world-renowned ecologists making her stuff. Maybe. Haru wasn't the type who flaunted her wealth. Not intentionally, at least.</p><p>"Congratulations on getting together with Ann," said Haru, surprising him. "You make a beautiful couple."</p><p>"Yeah," said Akira. "Ann's working miracles with my look." </p><p>"You're quite photogenic indeed," said Haru, smiling. </p><p>Akira smiled back, trying to decide if he should relax. Was it safe, to talk about his alleged good looks with a girl who he suspected was halfway in love with him, while his girlfriend spaced out down in class?</p><p>"Like a dashing yakuza hitman in a romantic thriller," added Haru, as she pruned weeds.</p><p>"Yakuza?" Seriously? Akira had stopped looking at Ann's feed out of a vague sense of embarrassment, but he assumed he was in the background looking boring and ordinary. Who would pay attention to him while Ann was <em>right there</em>?</p><p>"You should see the comments on the pictures," giggled Haru. </p><p>Yeah, Akira wasn't going to. He refused to get sucked into social media drama. </p><p>They kept working in relative silence after that. Comfortable silence, so he might have overestimated the strength of Haru's crush on him. Maybe he was that full of himself, and she didn't have a crush at all. Not every woman he spent time with ended up in love with him. Sae Nijima didn't seem particularly impressed with him, and she was only one example. </p><p>The rest of the free period went on in relative peace, with Haru telling him about a new book she was reading as she tended to her garden. Akira hummed at the right places, and even said something about how he wished he had more time to read. When Haru asked what kind of books he liked, he answered honestly.</p><p>“I don’t have any preferences about it,” said Akira. “It’s just a way to kill time.”</p><p>“Yes, that’s why most people read,” said Haru. </p><p><em>So I don’t die of boredom,</em> Akira didn’t add. Better for Haru to think him silly rather than crazy. </p><p>“I should go back down to class,” said Akira. </p><p>“Okay,” said Haru. “Don’t worry about me, Akira-kun. I’ll be fine.”</p><p>Akira smiled, genuinely, and kept smiling on the way back to class. Another weight lifted off his shoulders - Haru would be fine. How arrogant of him to assume that she would fall apart just because whatever fantasies she had about him wouldn’t come to pass. Ryuji had freaked out more when Akira disappointed him. Though, in all fairness, he hadn’t told Haru that he was trying to play chess blindfolded, using them as their pieces.</p><p>Speaking of Ryuji. . . Managing his moods since telling him of Akechi, and the full extent of Akira’s powers, had not gotten any easier.</p><p>Akira had been spending more time with him since revealing the confidants thing, to calm him down, but also because Akira liked hanging out with Ryuji. Despite everything. It was more relaxing than ever, now that he could brainstorm without worrying about sounding creepy. Much.</p><p>Regardless, it'd been two weeks since Yoshida's death and nothing had changed. Akira had appeased Ryuji somewhat by introducing him to the twins, just to prove that getting straight answers out of anything in the Velvet Room was like pulling out teeth. They’d called Ryuji one of his knights, which had flattered him, at least until Ryuji noticed how creepy it was.</p><p>“They treat you a little like shit, don’t they?” Ryuji had said, after Akira dropped the twins off.</p><p>“I told you,” Akira had said.</p><p>“Well,” Ryuiji smirked at him. “It’s nice to see that not <em>everyone</em> thinks you’re all that.”</p><p>Akira had rolled his eyes, but the whole point had been to prove that he couldn’t just . . . stop what he was doing. That he hadn’t turned into some master manipulator on purpose. Much. Point was, it had calmed Ryuji a bit, but now, he was getting impatient. Time to get the rest of the team on-board.</p><p>He met the Phantom Thieves up in the attic for a meeting, but really, they were just wasting time. Futaba was futzing around with his old TV, complaining about the specs, as Yusuke gazed at it with an air of immense concentration. Makoto had borrowed his desk to study or research or something else mature and important, with Haru and Morgana sitting close by to offer support and advice. Ryuji and Ann were at the opposite end of the attic, sitting on his lonely table as they bickered about something they'd found online. Their voices were soothing, so much so that Akira opened the Nav app and went over to Akechi's confidant entry without gritting his teeth in frustration. </p><p>He still had no idea what to do. Spending the last few weeks going over all their interactions in his mind at least once a day, doing a double-take at every light-haired boy that entered his field of vision, and fantasizing about both petting and burning Akechi's hair on a near-hourly basis had failed to give Akira any clues about the bastard's whereabouts. </p><p>It was truly challenging Akira's philosophy of just sitting back and letting the world turn. People usually got around to doing what he wanted, if he just gave them time.</p><p>Except Akechi. </p><p>Out the corner of his eye, he noticed Ryuji approaching his futon with a determined look in his eye. Right, he'd promised to come clean about Akechi today. He raised a placating hand to Ryuji and straightened up.</p><p>"Alright," he said, to get everyone's attention,"let's start the meeting." </p><p>Makoto took the opportunity to summarize their status. They had been inactive since their last trip to Mementos, so that part of it was done in moments. Recounting Shido's last media appearance didn't take much longer: the fucker had announced that his doctors were satisfied with the progress he was making, so he would officially take office in three weeks’ time.</p><p>Three weeks. It didn't give them much to work with.</p><p>"But what can we do?" Yusuke asked, huddling on the couch. "We defeated his Shadow and destroyed his Palace, yet his twisted desires persist."</p><p>"Maybe we didn't do it right?" suggested Futaba.</p><p>"No," said Morgana, tail swishing. "We did it exactly as we always do. Something must have changed in him."</p><p>Akira didn't doubt that, but whatever had changed in his cognition had not changed his political leanings. </p><p>"Don't you have anything sorta unrelated to talk about, Akira?" asked Ryuji.</p><p>"Right," said Akira, leaning back on the futon as he looked up at Ryuji's serious gaze. The rest of the team waited calmly, hanging on Akira’s every word. He hadn’t come up with a good explanation, but he didn’t think he’d need one. "I think Akechi's alive."</p><p>For a long moment, no one spoke. Ryuji looked around anxiously, but nobody was paying attention to him. Their gazes were on Akira, as though waiting for further explanation.</p><p>"What?" Haru was the first to speak, her tone harsher than Akira had ever heard it. "How could you know?" </p><p>"I had a dream," said Akira.</p><p>"A dream," repeated Ryuji, with a flat stare. "What kind of dream?" </p><p>Akira shrugged at him. Had to suppress a little smirk. "Well, it’s been more than one. It's hard to explain. I think it has to do with my special powers."</p><p>“How long have you had these dreams?” asked Ann, without a hint of suspicion. </p><p>Akira shrugged. He’d hoped no one would ask him too much about that.  “I thought they were like a trauma response, so I didn’t say anything.”</p><p>“Oh,” said Ann, walking over to his futon to hold his hand. “Did he have something to do with that weird panic attack you had?”</p><p>Ryuji’s jaw tightened, but he just turned around to pace nervously. As long as he kept quiet, Akira wasn’t too worried. He offered Ann a small smile, bending down a little so she could peck his lips in a comforting gesture. Not his style to angle for sympathy, but he preferred it over having the Thieves think he was a liar.</p><p>“His powers were - are - particularly suited for inducing mental breakdowns, correct?” asked Makoto.</p><p>Akira blinked, then connected the dots. “I don’t think Akechi knows that I know he’s alive.” Though, he couldn’t be sure.</p><p>“Maybe he does,” said Haru. “He was a bitter, vicious bastard.”</p><p>“Uh,” said Akira. She wasn’t wrong, but he wasn’t used to hearing her so angry.</p><p>“In the engine room, we only beat him because he got distracted trying to kill you specifically,” said Morgana. </p><p>“Uh,” Akira said, again, at a complete loss for words. He got a flash of Loki blasting him with curse magic and shuddered. </p><p>Ann squeezed his hand and tried to gather him in a comforting hug. The Thieves were looking at him with varying degrees of concern - except for Ryuji, who glared down at his feet.</p><p>“He was quite jealous of you, so it’s no surprise that he would target you,” said Yusuke, stroking his chin. “Don’t worry, though. We got him once, and we can get him again.”</p><p>This was taking a turn for the unexpected, and he didn’t know if he liked it. In the short term, it served Akira for the Thieves to decide that he was the victim in this latest clusterfuck. They’d be eager to protect him, and much more likely to follow instructions and believe his excuses. That being said, he didn’t want them to hate Akechi more, as he somehow intended to just. . . bring Akechi back to his pre-unhinged boiler room meltdown self? </p><p>Akira didn't have the details worked out. Akechi had been so useful, though. Sure, he had killed Haru’s dad, but that man had been a next-level piece of shit. Akira understood Haru’s pain, but objectively speaking? The world was better off without Kunikazu Okumura. </p><p>There was the issue of Futaba’s mom, but Futaba seemed not to directly blame Akechi for it. Though he was, Akira had no choice but to admit. Directly to blame for it. At least, she hadn’t brought it up much. Akechi had been like sixteen when he drove Wakaba Isshiki to suicide, likely on Shido’s orders. Maybe that was why Futaba seemed a little more lenient?  </p><p>
  <em>How old was he when he triggered that massive subway accident again?</em>
</p><p>“I don’t think he knows I know he’s alive,” said Akira, but he couldn’t muster any confidence.</p><p>Ann patted his shoulder. Anxious chatter continued as the Thieves got drawn into silly theorizing and babbling. Morgana and Makato were going on a metaphysics tangent, while Futaba took out her laptop to scour the internet, or maybe her mother's research notes, for clues. Yusuke sat by her, staring intently, though Akira would bet his least favorite confidant link that Yusuke didn't understand a thing she was doing. Haru hugged her arms and stared at the floor, and Akira felt the first pang of real regret over the whole mess. She’d only barely managed to start putting her father’s death behind her, and the assumption that his murderer had faced some measure of justice had made it a tad easier. Morgana slinked closer and bumped her shin with his forehead, but she seemed lost in thought. </p><p>“Haru?” asked Makoto, a little hesitantly. </p><p>"According to the internet," said Futaba, as her fingers danced over her keyboard, “Akechi's still missing. There's the usual stuff in his fan sites about people who think they've spotted him, but nothing concrete. All the pics are of skinny guys who dye their hair the same color as his."</p><p>"What about his coworkers at the police?" asked Makoto.</p><p>"He technically doesn't have any," said Futaba. "Once he graduated high school, he went on to work as a consultant, but they didn't actually pay him much. Everyone just assumed a family member was paying for his room and board while he took some time off before college."</p><p>Well, that was technically right. Shido was Akechi's dad and the person most likely to be bankrolling his psychotic rampage.</p><p>"Didn't you say you had his bank accounts tracked?" asked Ryuji, pausing his nervous pacing.</p><p>"He hasn't touched his money since he supposedly died," said Futaba.</p><p>"He wouldn't need to," said Akira. "There's no reason why he can't go down to Mementos and live off the loot." They should know that, considering how much Thieves business had been funded with Metaverse yen. </p><p>"Akira," said Makoto, still glancing at Haru with obvious concern, "are you certain that he's alive?"</p><p>"Extremely certain," said Akira, making sure not to look over at whatever Ryuji was doing.</p><p>"So what's the plan?" asked Morgana.</p><p>"Honestly, I have no idea," admitted Akira. "For now, I just want to find him."</p><p>"Find him for what?" asked Haru, in a tone that set off Akira's internal alarms.</p><p>"Like I said, I don't know yet," said Akira. "But it's something to do. If nothing else, he knows more about the Metaverse than any of us."</p><p>"He killed my dad," said Haru. She swallowed. "We should make him pay." </p><p>"Do you mean that we should make him change his heart?" asked Yusuke.</p><p>"He's a monster," said Haru, shaking her head. "He shouldn't get- No. He doesn't <em>deserve</em> a second chance."</p><p>Akira almost defended him, which would be extremely stupid. Akechi <em>was</em> a monster, never mind that Akira had a strange inkling that he was more like a powerful Persona that he needed to charm or persuade, that Akechi could be useful to the team, to the world at large. </p><p>"It doesn't really matter whether he deserves a second chance or not," said Morgana, dark tail swishing. "He doesn't have a Palace. We have no way of altering his cognition."</p><p>"And even if he had a Palace,” said Yusuke, "we have no guarantee that stealing his Treasure would actually change his heart. That's not what happened with Shiho, so why would it happen with Akechi?"</p><p>"I'm not saying we go there and kill him," insisted Haru. "But there's no reason why he should get away with what he did. He should face the consequences for his actions. Jail, at the very least."</p><p>"Without the means to make him confess his crimes, we don't have a way to get him arrested," said Makoto. "Honestly, even if he wanted to confess, he might not be able to. Nobody will believe that he has the power to drive people insane, much less make them kill themselves." </p><p>Ann squeezed Akira's hand, drawing his attention. "You okay?"</p><p>"Ah, yeah?" said Akira. "Why wouldn't I be?"</p><p>"Because he shot you," said Ann.</p><p>Oh, right. Akira was very good at not thinking about that. "But I tricked him," he said. "We tricked him."</p><p>Ann looked a little worried, but then she smiled, so Akira decided to let her think that he was actually joking. Truth was, he didn't really mind the whole being shot in the head thing anymore. Most of the time. It had turned out alright, hadn't it? What would be the point of holding a grudge? To the point that it altered his actions? Akira knewows that he should, but it just felt so. . . illogical. </p><p>“These dreams have any clues about where he might be?” Ryuji asked him.</p><p>Akira shrugged. “Not really. The details fade the moment I wake up.”</p><p>“Just like regular dreams,” said Makoto, nodding to herself.</p><p>“Oh my God,” mumbled Ryuji. </p><p>“Akechi’s not strong enough to stay in the Metaverse forever,” said Makoto, ignoring Ryuji. She sat down next to Futaba. “He has to come out for food, if nothing else. Can we scan his fansite for any alleged sightings?”</p><p>Akira had to bite back a smile. They believed him; they would believe almost anything he said. They didn't understand his powers, and he didn't even have to lie about not understanding them himself. If he just sat back and let them come to their own conclusions, everything would be okay. He scanned the room again to see how his friends were doing, and found that only Haru looked. . . off. She was looking down at her feet all forgotten as the rest of the Thieves looked for their own explanations about where Akechi might be. Her shoulders were hunched in, and she had retreated to a corner in the attic. </p><p>“I gotta admit, it’s hard to believe he’s really alive,” said Futaba, drawing Akira’s attention. “There’s no credible sightings of him anywhere; not a single flutter in his bank account, including the ones he had under fake names. No one can exist without an online trail nowadays.”</p><p>“He was very clever,” said Yusuke, as he peered at Futaba’s laptop screen. “Perhaps he knows how to cover his tracks online?”</p><p>“Nah,” said Futaba. “His smartphone security was total noob shit. She looked up at Akira. “You’re a hundred percent sure he’s alive?”</p><p>“Like a bullet,” said Akira. Considering how Ann flinched next to him, that wasn’t the best analogy.</p><p>“This is the first real avenue we’ve gotten to possibly go after Shido,” said Makoto. </p><p>“How so?” asked Morgana.</p><p>“Akechi’s probably the only person alive with all the details of his plan,” said Makato. “I don’t mean the grandiose nonsense from Shido’s Shadow, but the day-to-day, mundane ins-and-outs of his operation. Akechi was the one with the Metaverse powers, after all.” </p><p>“He might have been using his powers to. . . control people,” said Ryuji.</p><p>“Yeah, we know, dumbass,” said Morgana.</p><p>“Don’t be like that,” said Akira, with a gentle tug at the cat’s tail. Ryuji wasn’t talking about the induced-suicides thing, but about the more subtle forms of manipulation. Like the kind Akira shamelessly engaged in.  </p><p>"Regardless," says Makoto, "his survival is the best thing that could have happened for us."</p><p>"Don't say that!" Haru exploded.</p><p>Everyone in the attic startled, including Akira. Even when awakening the true powers of her Persona, Haru had sounded more controlled. </p><p>"Haru, I didn't mean. . ." Makoto raised her hands and tried to make a placating gesture. "I only meant that this gives us an avenue to pursue against Shido."</p><p>"He killed my father," said Haru, voice tight and shoulders tense. She hiccuped, as though holding back tears. "He had just started. . . He apologized to me just the day before."</p><p>"We all get that he was the worst," said Futaba, "but that doesn't mean we can't acknowledge the facts. Him being alive could benefit us."</p><p>"He killed my father!" repeated Haru.</p><p>"Yeah, he killed my mom too," said Futaba, as her fingers danced over her keyboard, "who - since we’re keeping score - wasn't an asshole and also didn't have a fortune to leave me."</p><p>“Okay,” Akira said, standing up quickly. “We don’t have to make a decision about Akechi right now.” </p><p>Haru shot him a betrayed look, then whirled around and stormed out of the attic. The rest of the Thieves froze down on their spots in awkward, stunned silence. Makoto hugged herself as she stared at the floor, Yusuke gripped the arm of the couch, and Ryuji stared off into the distance, jaw right. Only Futaba kept on working, her fingers passing over her laptop's keyboard like a stream. </p><p>Ann was the first to break the silence. "She forgot her coat!" </p><p>"I'll take it to her," said Makoto, almost jumping over to the rack. </p><p>"Let's go together," said Ann, walking over.</p><p>Instead of taking her own stylish - but rather flimsy - jacket, she took the one she'd gotten for Akira, looking over at him to see if he'd object. When he nodded, Ann emptied his coat's pockets and placed his wallet and chapstick on the table by the rack. They meant to be out in the cold for a while, then. Akira should go with them, but he did not want to talk about Akechi with Haru. Not when he didn't have a plan of some sort, some inkling of how to convince Haru that it would be better for everyone if they just. . . forgave Akechi? He didn't even think Akechi <em>wanted</em> forgiveness to begin with.</p><p>"I better go too," said Morgana, hopping off Akira's bed. "One of you try her phone; it's too cold out there."</p><p>“Should I go too?” asked Yusuke, hesitantly.</p><p>“Better let the girls handle it,” said Ryuji, looking at the floor. “We don’t want Haru feeling like we’re ganging up on her or something.”</p><p>Akira watched them go, trying to remember if a meeting had ever gone this badly before. He didn't think they'd ever so much as argued like this. They'd come close, but Akira had always been able to reel them back in with a firm command sweetened with a joke. Damn Akechi. This was all his fault. He glanced over at Futaba, who had colonized the couch and sprawled on her belly, still scanning the internet avidly. Akira sighed and fell back on his bed, rubbing his forehead.</p><p>Soon after that, Yusuke said he had to go and put on his coat with a dejected air about him. Ryuji shot Akira a hard look and followed his lead. "It's going great, bro," he said to Akira. </p><p>Like it was Akira’s fault that Akechi was a psycho.</p><p>"How come Ryuji looks like he wants to punch you half the time now?" Futaba asked, after she was the last one in the attic.</p><p>"He doesn't," protested Akira. </p><p>Futaba peered at him from behind her laptop screen. </p><p>“It’s between the two of us,” said Akira. “Stay out of our phones, okay? We’re not talking about it via text.”</p><p>“One of you will start googling shit soon enough,” said Futaba. “I’ll figure it out.”</p><p>“Fine.” Akira didn’t have time to teach their prodigy hacker the value of privacy. He’d probably be hacking people left and right too, if he knew how. “I do remember <em>some</em> details about my dreams, by the way. In case you get bored snooping on us and want to snoop on Akechi.”</p><p>“Really?” Futaba straightened up on the couch, like a puppy offered a tasty treat. “Okay, drop the news, rube!”</p><p>“Someone named Yamamoto - a guy, that much I’m sure of - hurt him,” said Akira. “Cracked his ribs, maybe more than that.”</p><p>“Just Yamamoto?” Futaba let out a frustrated grunt. “A dude named Yamamoto. There’ll be thousands. What did he look like?”</p><p>“I never saw his face,” said Akira.</p><p>“Height? Was he fat? Skinny? Tall? Short? Old or young? Hair color?”</p><p>“I never saw him at all,” said Akira. </p><p>“How useful of you,” said Futaba. </p><p>Akira shrugged. He wasn’t going to explain that, in the dream, he’d <em>been</em> Yamamoto. Briefly. Yamamoto had liked Akechi’s pretty hair almost as much as Akira did. </p><p>“What else?” said Futaba.</p><p>“Something about French,” said Akira, shrugging. “I don’t know if French food, or the language, or some other reference.” </p><p>“The language,” said Futaba, biting her thumb. “Akechi took French in school and got pretty good grades. He was fluent.”</p><p>“Of course he did,” said Akira. He bet plain old English wouldn’t be fancy enough for Akechi.</p><p>“Anything else?” asked Futaba.</p><p>“No.” He didn’t need to remind Futaba of how pretty Akechi was.</p><p>“That’s not a lot,” said Futaba.</p><p>“They were very vague dreams,” said Akira.</p><p>“Well,” said Futaba, cracking her fingers. “I’ve done more with less.”</p><p>Akira bet she had. But she couldn’t read a room, so Akira expected her to keep clacking away at her laptop right on his couch no matter how many affronted looks Akira shot her. Maybe she’d find something before Ann got back. She wouldn’t have taken Akira’s coat if she didn’t intend to come back to the attic. Akira hoped she was looking to get laid. He lied back on his bed, thinking that he sure could use the distraction. There were so many shitshows on his plate, starting with Ryuji. He ought to visit him soon, do something about all the tension that just kept getting worse and worse. </p><p>As expected, Ryuji was not in the best of moods the next time Akira decided to waste time at his house.</p><p>“You told them you had a fucking dream, and they just bought it!” he ranted, making frustrated noises as Akira messed around on his phone. “Even Makoto was like ‘yeah, totally, that makes sense’.”</p><p>“I think she’s just worried about Haru,” said Akira. </p><p>“And the worst part is,” Ryuji continued, as though he hadn’t heard Akira at all, “I’d have believed it, too. It was like you had me under a spell.”</p><p>That hit a little close to home, so Akira let it pass and went to the app store. There was something he’d been putting off for too long.</p><p>“Dude!” yelled Ryuji. “Do you have a plan?”</p><p>“About what?” asked Akira.</p><p>“About literally fucking anything,” said Ryuji. “What about Shido?”</p><p>“The last time he was on the news, he almost cried about the state of the foster care system,” said Akira, shrugging. “Maybe we did change his heart. Plus, I still have Mishima researching,”</p><p>“Dude,” said Ryuji.</p><p>“My yakuza contact also says that Tokyo’s drug dealers are pissed, because Shido’s trying to break ties with them.”</p><p>“Excuse me?” asked Ryuji. “Your <em>what</em> are saying what the fuck?” </p><p>“Former yakuza,” said Akira, praying for patience. Ryuji knew of Iwai, sort of. Not about the yakuza thing, but it'd been his idea to go to the Airsoft Shop. “I need you to calm down. If I wanted hysterics, I’d call my mother and tell her Ann is pregnant.”</p><p>“Ann is pregnant?” yelled Ryuji.</p><p>“No!” Akira slapped his forehead and sighed. “I’m trying to joke. Remember joking? A thing you used to do?”</p><p>Ryuji made an indignant noise. Then he started giggling nervously. Akira smirked at him, and they were both laughing, loud and a little forced. Ryuji stumbled over to the futon and fell beside Akira, visibly trying to calm down. They laughed until the atmosphere reached something resembling real mirth, until Ryuji was holding his stomach as though every guffaw pained him. Akira’s own belly clenched in sympathy. He really shouldn’t have come clean. Ryuji didn’t deserve this stress. </p><p>“How are you so calm all the time?” Ryuji asked, a few minutes later.</p><p>“I don’t know,” said Akira, finger still hovering over the Instagram app. He’d been glaring at it sporadically for at least a day, feeling sillier with every passing second.</p><p>“Maybe it’s part of your weird powers,” said Ryuji.</p><p>“Maybe,” mumbled Akira. “Do you follow Ann on Instagram?”</p><p>“Yeah?” Ryuji leaned forward and stared at him, eyebrows furrowed. “Don’t you?”</p><p>“Not really,” said Akira. “I don’t really get social media.”</p><p>“Probably for the best,” said Ryuji, rolling his eyes. “I bet you’d have a personal cult by now.”</p><p>Akira opened his mouth to argue that his powers didn’t work over the internet, but. . . He didn’t know, did he? Maybe they did. Ann had bragged that she’d gotten more popular since including pictures of him in her account, and it certainly wasn’t because Akira was prettier than her. </p><p>“How do I look in Ann’s pictures?” </p><p>“Like yourself,” said Ryuji. “Duh.”</p><p>Akira grunted, at the both of them. “Can I borrow your laptop?” If he was going to bite the bullet, he might as well do it on a larger screen.</p><p>“Whatever, bro,” said Ryuji. “I’m not getting up.”</p><p>After a frustrated huff, Akira got up. Coming clean to Ryuji had been such a mistake. He missed the days of Ryuji being enthralled and bordering on desperate to please him. At least he knew where the laptop was, and Ryuji’s password. </p><p>“You have an Instagram shortcut on your desktop?” he asked Ryuji, annoyed that he wouldn’t get to stall by finding the website and searching Ann’s name, which was supposedly a common one in America. </p><p>“Oh, is that supposed to be weird?” said Ryuji. “Mr. I-wouldn’t-have-friends-if-they-didn’t-give-me-superpowers.”</p><p>“Fair,” said Akira, finally opening Instagram.</p><p>He was relieved to find that the majority of Ann’s posts had absolutely nothing to do with him. The last one was about facials and featured her with Makoto, Futaba, and Haru making silly faces at the camera. Ann knew her modeling despite all the waffling about how she didn’t take it seriously - it all looked very professional: the poses, lighting, and make up flattering to all four of them. It made Akira smile, and he didn’t give a single shit about exfoliation and face vitamins. The girls all looked happy and cute, including Haru. Akira hadn’t seen her so relaxed since he’d broken the news about Akechi. </p><p>The next few posts were sponsored clothes, one featuring none other than Mika herself. Pretty, but utterly uninteresting to Akira. There was one with Morgana’s head nestled between Ann’s boobs that made Akira chuckle to himself. That was a sentient cat that alleged to be a male human in love with his girlfriend, using her impressive boobs as pillows. His life was ridiculous. He read the caption and understood enough English to parse out that Ann referred to Morgana as “my boyfriend’s cat”. </p><p>More sponsored bullshit. Though credit to Ann where it was due - so far, there hadn’t been a single post about some cleanse, juice, or exercise that would give her devoted followers a similar waistline. Akira read the ones in Japanese, nodding approvingly. At least Ann made an effort to help the girls who wanted to dress like her but couldn’t afford designer clothes. Had she ever said that she knew how to sow? Vaguely, he remembered seeing a sewing machine and different types of fabrics in her apartment. Akira had a habit of tuning her out when she started going on about fashion. He had no prejudices against clothes and such; only a fool would deny that aesthetics were a difficult field. He just didn’t care about it, and Ann didn’t seem to notice that he wasn’t paying attention. </p><p>He checked the comments on the next post and immediately wished he hadn’t. The ones he could understand could be sorted into three different groups: ones that really had the hots for Ann and hated her for it, ones that really had the hots for Ann and were extremely creepy about it, and a slim fraction that were complementary without being creepy. Akira almost responded, but it didn’t take supernatural insight into human nature to grasp the futility of getting into internet arguments. He scrolled on. </p><p>Finally, the next post was a picture of him.</p><p>“What the fuck?” he said.</p><p>“What?” asked Ryuji, who’d been playing with his phone.</p><p>“This isn’t what I look like,” complained Akira, shoving the laptop in Ryuji’s direction.</p><p>“What do you mean?” asked Ryuji, peering at the screen. </p><p>"I'm not this hot in real life!" complained Akira. Which sounded stupid, but it was true! He glared at the screen.</p><p>“That’s you at a flattering angle," said Ryuji, "with good lighting, and the standard filter getting rid of that one zit you keep getting on the side of your nose. What’s the problem?”</p><p>Akira took a step closer and sat beside him, ready to explain in no uncertain terms that, no, that most certainly wasn’t what he normally looked like. But that wasn’t entirely true, either.</p><p>It was a profile picture of him in Ann’s apartment, lounging by her windowsill at sunset with Morgana napping on his belly while he looked at his phone. He vaguely remembered Ann taking the shot and asking if she could post it and him mumbling something in annoyed agreement. Not necessarily at her; he’d just been glaring at Akechi’s confidant entry at the time. </p><p>“Dude, what?” asked Ryuji.</p><p>“It’s just. . . It’s not how I see myself, okay?”</p><p>“The hell does that mean?” asked Ryuji.</p><p>Akira looked at the picture, feeling more uncomfortable the longer he did so. He’d taken off his glasses and put his hair in a messy bun that ought to look silly, but it just made his neck and jawline. . . something. Was that really what people saw when they looked at him? Ann’s apartment was pretty warm, so he’d been down to his undershirt. Akira knew he was fit; he hadn’t realized that his arm muscles were that defined. Or that his hands were. . . What had his old friend called them? Elegant. He had long, slim fingers curled around Morgana's neck, mid-scratch behind a black, cute cat ear.</p><p>“I’m supposed to be a skinny dweeb,” said Akira.</p><p>“Since when?” asked Ryuji. </p><p>After a second of hesitation, Akira moved the cursor over his own image. Maybe Ann was still tagging his old account- yeah. It’d be easier to see all of Akira’s pictures in his abandoned Instagram account and pinpoint the moment when his demeanor changed. It took him a second to remember how Instagram worked, and another to locate the tab with all the posts he had been tagged in. Ryuji would see what he meant. </p><p>It was quite the disconcerting experience to see all of Ann’s posts laid out right next to each other. Half the time, he was in the background with a book, staring off into the distance or glaring at his phone. The other half, he stood behind her with an arm wrapped around her waist, smirking for a selfie on her instructions.</p><p>“Why would she make me look like this?” he whined.</p><p>“What? Good?” Ryuji rolled his eyes.</p><p>“No, <em>she</em> looks good,” said Akira. “I look like the serial killer who dragged her to his attic-dungeon.” </p><p>“That’s what girls like, bro,” said Ryuji. “They want you to look like an asshole and treat them like princesses.”</p><p>Akira made an irritated noise, then got blindsided by the next post he’d been tagged on. It was a picture of him and none other than Akechi, from a time they’d run into each other in Inokashira Park. It hit him all of a sudden, like a fucking traincart, that he could have been stalking Akechi on social media all year.</p><p>“I remember this post too,” said Ryuji, with an annoyed grunt. “Everyone lost their shit at school.”</p><p>“Did they?” mumbled Akira, as he studied the selfie.</p><p>He remembered finding a cool, heart-shaped lilypad at the pond, bashfully explaining to Akechi that it drew his attention. Akechi had said some nonsense about what a waste it was that he didn’t have a girl with him, since it’d be an excellent excuse to flirt. Shit, he’d been so cute about it. Akira had, much to his horror, felt his cheeks growing warm. He’d wondered if the bastard was trying to flirt with him and gotten all tongue-tied. <em>Genuinely</em>, not just pretending to put someone at ease. Then Akechi said something about a good luck selfie, and there they were, the heart-shaped lily in the background.</p><p>“Everyone was like ‘maybe Kurusu-san isn’t so bad if <em>Akechi-kun</em> likes him’,” Ryuji said, in a mock-feminine voice. “I can’t believe I thought he was just a stuck-up nerd.”</p><p>“This looks more like me,” said Akira, remembering the point he’d been trying to make in the first place.</p><p>“What do you mean?” </p><p>“I mean this is what I actually look like,” insisted Akira. He was smiling up at the camera a little hesitantly, half-trying to hide behind Akechi. The foliage and sunlight made the annoying auburn highlights in Akechi’s hair stand out, drawing all attention away from Akira.</p><p>“That’s because this is a regular person selfie with two regular-hot people,” said Ryuji. “Ann’s like a professional.”</p><p>“You think he’s hot?”</p><p>“Everyone thinks he’s hot,” said Ryuji, shaking his head. “It’s probably why he got away with so much shit.” </p><p>Akira moved the cursor over Akechi’s smiling face, then slammed the laptop shut. He was not going to go down that particular spiral in front of Ryuji.</p><p>“Dude, are trying to break it?” yelled Ryuji, taking his laptop back. </p><p>“I have a plan,” said Akira.</p><p>“About what?” asked Ryuji.</p><p>“I know how I’m gonna get Akechi to reveal himself,” said Akira.</p><p>“Here we go,” groused Ryuji.</p><p>“There’s no way the little bastard isn’t stalking Ann’s page,” said Akira. Not with her sprinkling her feed with pictures of him.</p><p>No. With pictures of The Joker.</p><p>If Akira had his way, he'd deliver his plan to Ann indirectly by steering the conversation during a team meeting. But the last one they'd had about Akechi had not gone well, and besides, Akira's plan relied so heavily on Ann that he wanted her to have a chance to shut it down without having to disappoint the entire team. It would be better to float the idea by her the next time he visited her apartment.</p><p>He checked Akechi’s Instagram feed on the way there, which was an extremely frustrating and boring experience. It was all selfies of Akechi trying different pastries and adding culinary reviews about them. Completely inoffensive shit that was also two-hundred percent fake as fuck, and Akira would have noticed as much even before Akechi came out and admitted it that one time. </p><p><em>The sugar content overwhelms the hint of strawberry, but the texture of this mousse is unparalleled!</em> accompanied a picture of Akechi looking up at his phone, holding a cupcake topped with pink, fluffy icing. Or mousse. Whatever. Someone had dabbed a bit of the stuff onto Akechi’s nose. Him, probably. Then he’d just posed for the perfect selfie, which Akira knew from watching Ann took several tries just to adjust the lighting. And Akechi had done that with cupcake mousse on his nose. </p><p>How did people fall for it? Who talked about cupcakes like this? At least Akira was committed to <em>his</em> act.</p><p>Anyway. Akira took a calming breath and put his phone away. It was okay. No need to have a meltdown about cupcakes. He had a plan, which could be implemented as soon as he got Ann on board.  </p><p>He meant to do it early on in the visit, before they got to anything else, but she pulled him down for a deep kiss the second he walked through the door. Ann was a good kisser, put her whole body into it and pulled on his hair to angle his head the way she wanted him. Akira’s vague sense of quilt did not stand a chance against her, and within minutes, he was naked, with Ann on his lap, gasping as she guided him inside her.</p><p>“I came to ask you something,” he said, through his teeth. </p><p>“Hm,” said Ann, grinding down, trying to find the angle that pleased her most.</p><p>“You might not like it,” gasped Akira.</p><p>“Tell me after,” said Ann.</p><p>He had official permission. It was more than most guys would have bothered with. Akira grabbed her hips, tried to slip his fingers between her wet folds to help her along before he blew his load prematurely. His stamina while his dick was inside a girl still left much to be desired, pardon the pun. But Ann slapped his hand away, glaring at him. Maybe that wasn’t supposed to turn him on, but if so, Akira’s wires got crossed wrong somewhere.</p><p>“Don’t move,” ordered Ann, breathing strained. “Be a good boy and let me work.”</p><p>“Okay,” said Akira, going lax.</p><p>Well, he tried. All his muscles were tight, like he was trying to skirt around a powerful Shadow without getting his head bitten off. Except, in a good way.</p><p>He put his hands by his sides, took a deep breath while staring straight at Ann’s blue eyes, and let out a slow breath. She nodded at him, wearing a satisfied little smirk, and started riding him, arms braced on his shoulders. Her nails dug into his skin while she <em>worked</em>, to use her words. Akira stared at her until she closed her eyes. He did as well, but then there was nothing to distract him from the feeling of his dick sliding in and out of her at a maddening pace, not fast or slow, not deep enough or at the angle he would like. Or she would like, either, from what he’d observed over the last few weeks.</p><p>His hands twitched, eager to grab her hips and do it <em>right</em>, but that wasn’t what she wanted. So he laid there, vaguely frustrated, alarmed, and getting more paradoxically more turned on. Ann let out a moan and collapsed on top of him, gasping and squirming, nails dragging against the skin of her upper arms.</p><p>“Go ahead, take over,” she said.</p><p>Akira sprung into action, grabbed her hips and flipped them over. He almost slipped out of her, but that was fine. It gave him the chance to hike one of her legs over his shoulder, open her up just to thrust deeper. She wailed as he thrust, quicker and harder than he normally would, spurred on by frustration from their earlier position. For the first time - that he could be sure of, at least - Ann came without him having to use his fingers or his mouth. She tightened around him, almost convulsing, as he thrust, dragging him along in mere seconds.</p><p>After, Akira collapsed on top of her, unsure if he should be sorry or proud of himself. He supposed it all depended on how she felt about it.</p><p>“You okay?” he asked.</p><p>“Yeah,” said Ann, squeezing her arms around him.</p><p>He relaxed, moved a little to the side so most of his weight wasn’t on top of her.</p><p>“That’s harder than it looks,” mumbled Ann.</p><p>“Hm?”</p><p>“Being on top,” mumbled Ann. “My thighs gave out.”</p><p>“Well,” said Akira. “I’m very athletic.”</p><p>“So am I!”</p><p>Akira was glad they weren’t looking at each other, because it meant he could roll his eyes with impunity.</p><p>“I keep up with you in the Metaverse,” protested Ann.</p><p>No, she didn’t. In her defense, neither did any of the other Phantom Thieves, except for. . . Fuck. Like, an hour that time, without thinking of Akechi. If that.</p><p>“Akira!”</p><p>“This isn’t the Metaverse,” he said, because he needed to say <em>something</em>. “If I tried Metaverse acrobatics out here, I’d break my neck.”</p><p>“But you can. . . you know,” insisted Ann.</p><p>Because he exercised almost every day, either before getting to school or after coming back to the attic post-confidant management. </p><p>“I don’t want to brag-” </p><p>Ann slapped his shoulder lightly.</p><p>“-but,” Akira went on, undeterred, “I can squat one-twenty-five kilos.”</p><p>“Oh, wow,” teased Ann, since the numbers didn’t mean anything to her. </p><p>Considering the absolute clusterfuck Akira’s schedule had become, he was still proud of himself for managing to keep his body in semi-acceptable condition. “You joke, but it’s all to ensure that my thrusting rate and strokes keep you happy,” said Akira. </p><p>As expected, Ann started giggling. Then she felt silent and snuggled closer, her breathing evening out. He should tell her of his idea before she dozed off.</p><p>It didn't come as easily as Akira expected. He loved Ann, as much as he could love anyone, and he didn't want to ruin their post-coital cuddle session. Gently, he caressed her thigh, warm and content under a blanket, staring out the window as the sun set over Tokyo. Her breath tickled the hollow space between his collarbones, even and smooth, luring him to sleep.</p><p>"You up?" asked Akira.</p><p>She giggled, slipping a leg between his thighs. "You ready for round two?"</p><p>"I always am," said Akira. But he gripped her shoulders when she leaned up to kiss him. "But first, I want to run something by you."</p><p>"Yeah?" </p><p>"About Akechi," said Akira.</p><p>Instantly, Ann grew tense. She disentangled their legs and leaned backwards. "Okay, I'm gonna put on some clothes."</p><p>"Sure, me too," said Akira, feeling like a heel. He reconsidered his plan as he pulled on his briefs.</p><p>Ann was rightfully scared of Akechi, and Akira was about to ask her to draw his ire. The idea didn't seem so clever with Ann looking so small and dejected, even after she threw on shorts and an oversized sweater.</p><p>"You think he'll get mad if we start doing couples content on my social media?" asked Ann, after he explained his idea in stilted tones.</p><p>He hadn't known there was a name for it, but. . . "I guess."</p><p>"But I don't see how that would make Akechi even more jealous of you," said Ann. "He barely noticed me when he was on the team."</p><p>"Well." Akira sighed. If the rest of the team were there, then they would fill in the blanks and Akira would be spared from having to sound so full of himself. "I think he'd be jealous of you in this case. Not me." </p><p>Ann stared at him. And stared. Until he blushed and looked down at his bare toes, resisting an urge to hug his chest.</p><p>"Akira," said Ann, taking a couple of steps closer to him, "were you and Akechi-? Oh my God."</p><p>This was going great.</p><p>"Were you two, like, a <em>thing</em>?" asked Ann.</p><p>"No!" </p><p>"So why would he be jealous of <em>me</em> for dating you?" </p><p>Akira risked a glance at her and felt his shoulders relax, because she wasn't smirking at him or looking disgusted. Just. . . curious. </p><p>"When we were. . ." Akira trailed off. How to explain that he'd been essentially flirting with the fucker? It'd be easier to tell Ryuji. At least he already knew of the confidant thing. "I mean, when I was trying to get information from him, I got the feeling he was trying to impress me." And he'd been trying so hard to impress Akechi right back, but Ann didn't need to know that.</p><p>"Yeah, that was obvious in Sae-san's palace," said Ann, rubbing her chin. "And he did stare at you. Most people do, though."</p><p>Akira bit his lower lip to hide a smirk. </p><p>"He did leer at you and stuff," said Ann. "I guess I just assumed it was the aggressive leering of like. . . I don't know. Boys establishing dominance or whatever."</p><p>"I'm pretty sure he wants to dominate me too," said Akira, walking over to drop onto the bed. </p><p>Ann giggled.</p><p>"Not like that," said Akira. And immediately considered that, for all he knew, Akechi <em>did</em> want to dominate him like <em>that</em>.</p><p>With a sigh, Ann walked over and laid down next to him. "I know this is gonna make me sound like a bitch," she started.</p><p>"I doubt it," said Akira. The only time Ann had been remotely close to mean, she'd been. . . Frank.</p><p>"But if he's gay, then I don't have to feel guilty about not being able to, like. . . stop him," said Ann.</p><p>"What does that have to do with it?" asked Akira.</p><p>"How could I seduce a guy who doesn't like girls?" said Ann, in a <em>duh</em> tone.</p><p>Right. That femme fatale stuff. It was probably bad that Ann still thought her looks were all she brought to the table, but they had bigger fish to fry. Akira didn't know if Akechi was gay, bisexual, or just fixated on Akira specifically for some batshit incomprehensible reason. Or even if he had used his powers on Akechi, and this was just how a murderer behaved when they were a confidant. Not that he wanted to talk about any of that with Ann.</p><p>"So, are you okay with trying to get his attention?" He asked, instead.</p><p>"Do you think I could do it?" asked Ann. She sat up and hugged her knees to her chest.</p><p>"Of course," said Akira. </p><p>"But I'm such a bad actress," said Ann. "He'll know right away we're up to something."</p><p>"Oh, I'm counting on it," said Akira.</p><p>Ann looked at him, blue eyes wide. "So you do think I suck."</p><p>"What? No!" Akira sat up, trying to hide his impatience. "Ann, you're really good at making-" He searched for the right words - "appealing content for social media. I like your feed, and I don't give a shit about fashion." </p><p>"But you never like my posts," groused Ann.</p><p>What? Was Akira supposed to be liking the posts? Ann got literally thousands, sometimes <em>hundreds</em> of thousands, of likes. "I don't really use social media at all."</p><p>"I noticed, but would it kill you to show some support for your girlfriend in public?"</p><p><em>Show some support</em>? Some! Akira let her dress him up like an accessory. He went to her photoshoots whenever she asked him to. He got all smirky and douchey on command for trashy selfies that got him in trouble with his mom. He let her post all the pictures of him that she wanted. He reassured her that she was pretty every time she decided her makeup was less than perfect. He even indulged her brief interest in exercise that time she decided she needed to work harder on her physique. And they hadn't even been dating then.</p><p>"Okay, my bad," Akira said, forcing himself to sound sincere. "I'm gonna start liking the posts, alright? From this day forward, I will be your number one slobbering fan."</p><p>"You don't have to be extra, either," said Ann. But she leaned over to cuddle close to him, so she must be fine with him dutifully liking her posts. Well, it would certainly be easier than watching her struggle through a single push-up while bickering with Ryuji. </p><p>Anyway. "What I meant was," said Akira, eager to get back to important matters, "that Akechi would notice right away if I went from not being on social media to posting endless. . . couples content." The shit he had to do, honestly. "You go on doing what you're doing. Just put more of me in there."</p><p>“Couples content is more than just pictures,” said Ann, reaching up to run her fingers through his hair, as though trying to style it.</p><p>Geez, were they going to start right away?</p><p>“I’m going to make you a star,” declared Ann, looking him up and down as she stroked her chin.</p><p>Akira didn’t know if he was scared or excited.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>My <a href="https://twitter.com/LaTigra46636273">twitter account!</a></p></blockquote></div></div>
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